Queen of Blackmail

Natasha was just finishing her lunch when she heard, “My husband is going to the store. Do you need anything like toothpaste or shampoo?” She turned to face the woman, whom she hadn’t even heard approaching. “I’m fine for now, thank you,” she said cordially. A nervous excitement flared through her as she realized this might be her chance—provided she wasn’t locked in the basement, and she was pretty sure she wouldn’t be, since it was time for her to do some cleaning. “Okay, then. Come on up and scrub the downstairs bathroom.” Without a word but with a heart full of hope, Natasha climbed the stairs and did her best to act like nothing was up. The couple exchanged some words in their language, which she still couldn’t understand, much less identify, and then the husband left. Natasha heard the vehicle crunching down the gravel driveway. As the sound faded, she waited a moment or two in case he came back for something. She tiptoed quietly out of the bathroom and into the living room, ready to use her excuse of having to grab more cleaning supplies if she was spotted and questioned. But as usual, the woman was seated in her favorite chair with her back facing her as she watched TV. The perfect opportunity presented itself, and Natasha seized it, wasting no time. She picked up a ceramic figurine of a dog, crept up behind the woman, and whacked her over the head as hard as she could. The figurine bounced off the woman’s head with a sickening thud and flew from her hand just as the woman slumped over the side of her chair. Natasha spun around and bolted for the front door, not far away. She grabbed the handle and tugged. Fuck! It was locked. She should have known better. She quickly scanned the kitchen for any keys but wasn’t surprised not to find any. She’d never seen any hanging on a pegboard or anything like that. A quick check of the kitchen drawers yielded nothing. She looked at the still‑out‑cold woman. With dread, she approached and slid her hand into the pocket of her cardigan. Nothing. She then struggled with all her might to shift the woman’s weight so she could check the other pocket. Her panic turned to relief when she pulled out a set of keys. Certainly one of them had to fit the front door, right? She ran to the door, not knowing how much time she had and feeling like she had already wasted tons of it, even though it hadn’t been more than ten minutes since the man left. But she knew he could be back any second, depending on where he was going and what he was doing—not to mention the fact that the son could appear at any moment as well. There were three keys on the ring. The first key she tried didn’t fit, but the second one did. With a final glance over her shoulder to verify that the woman was still slumped over, she flung the door open and was never happier in her life to see the sunshine and feel the cool breeze on her skin. She ran as fast as she could toward where she’d seen the most buildings. She didn’t want to go to the one nearest the couple for fear they were friends with the neighbors. As she ran farther down the street, she saw that the house hadn’t been as isolated as she thought—just isolated enough that no one had heard her shouts or screams. Then she spotted a police station. She didn’t need to know the language to recognize what it was. Feeling this was almost too good to be true, she began to race toward it—until she saw him and froze dead in her tracks. The couple’s son was a cop! She saw him exit the building in full uniform as he spoke to another officer, constable, or whatever they were called in the area. She turned and ran before she was spotted, her heart galloping in her chest like a racehorse. She was utterly terrified. She knew she had to put some distance between herself and the area before she could risk reaching out for help. She was terrified the son or the father would drive by and spot her. She stood out as it was: she didn’t have a coat on and wore only flimsy, old canvas shoes. The only clothes they had given her, besides bras and underwear, were T‑shirt dresses. It had to be only about fifty degrees out. Being cold was the last thing on her mind, though. Right now, she just had to get help before she was spotted and dragged back to a world that would likely be much worse than the one she had just escaped.